The Golden Years
by lairy fights
Summary: [JamesLily, SiriusRemus, FrankAlice] [WIP] As the Marauders enter their seventh and final year at Hogwarts, they have to struggle against death, destruction, and the raging war outside the castle walls to try and find their place in the world.
1. Better Than a Sharp Stick in the Eye

Lily Evans stood on the edge of Platform 9 ¾, her face contorted into a frown. Above the left breast pocket of her crisp white Oxford shirt, her Head Girl badge shined. It had been polished to the point of overkill the night before, and there was no mistaking the tiny Gryffindor crest at the bottom. Her battered brown trunk rested near her feet, jarred occasionally when her compulsively tapping foot met the side of it. It was overstuffed as always, but the thick leather straps held it together as faithfully now as they had during her previous six years of education at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

It had not been the best summer of her life. She'd arrived home to an overly-attentive mother, an overly antisocial father, and an overly hypocritical, bigoted younger sister, who spent the holidays whining, moping, and doing everything within her power to make Lily absolutely miserable. Lily lost count of the times Petunia had tried to hide the spell-books and parchment Lily had brought home for the summer. The locating charms she could now legally cast had come in handy, but there was nothing to be done for the several assignments that had "accidentally" been destroyed when the normally graceful Petunia had clumsily knocked into the table at which Lily had been working, tipping her ink across the tidy parchment. Francine Evans had chided her youngest daughter until screaming fights broke out, at which point Lily would retreat upstairs to re-do whichever essay had been ruined.

The brightest spot in an otherwise dreary holiday, Lily mused, had been the appearance of one Raoul Montblanc, dearest and only nephew of the rich and elderly Muggle widow down the road. A University student born and raised in the heart of Paris, Raoul had been overflowing with witty French anecdotes, clever French jokes, and passionate French kisses, shared on the patio in his aunt's backyard underneath the stars.

Lily sighed wistfully. Alice Elliot, during her one visit to Lily's house over the holidays, had summed Raoul up perfectly when she turned to Lily, wide-eyed, and whispered, "Cripes, Lily!" after her first meeting with the older French boy. Lily had to agree—Raoul was charming and elegant and dashingly tall, dark, and handsome. He was everything a girl could possibly hope for in a summer relationship, but most importantly, he was the farthest from James Potter anyone could possibly get.

She scowled. James Potter: the bane of her existence.

It was much less than love at first sight. His first words to her ("Is your hair on fire? Shall I put it out for you?") were followed by a swift shove into the frigid September waters of the lake below the school. It had been a horrible way to become acquainted with the Giant Squid, and had been made even worse, when, arriving at the castle, dripping wet and shivering, she had "conveniently" fallen on her face, tripping over his foot as she climbed out of the small rowboat. Lily had had no qualms about telling the truth when Professor McGonagall, a stern middle-aged witch with black hair and square spectacles, asked what on Earth had happened to her. James Potter received his first detention before even being sorted, and called her a tell-tale when the Professor turned her back. Lily had stomped on his foot and spit in his hair, and he had pushed her over into the girl next to her, which was for the best in the end anyway, because Alice Elliot had helped Lily up, smiled at her, and kicked James in the shins. The girls were instant friends, and while a whimpering James went off to start an argument with another first-year, a tall, lanky boy with stormy grey eyes and shining black hair, Alice, the youngest in an all-magical family of four children, explained all about the four houses of Hogwarts and what to expect.

The Sorting Ceremony had been a moment of pure terror for Lily, her mind frantically whirling around all the things that could go wrong. Alice had insisted the Sorting Hat never placed a student wrongly, but that wasn't her concern. What if it refused to sort her? Could it send her home when she'd come so far? She couldn't imagine fitting into any of the houses Alice had described—she wasn't cunning or sly so as to be sorted Slytherin (which was rather a relief, as Alice had said no respectable witch would want to be sorted there anyway) and she wasn't clever enough to be a Ravenclaw. She was hard-working, she supposed, but thinking on it, she fibbed quite a bit, and wasn't honesty supposed to be important in Hufflepuff? And Gryffindor… Well, Gryffindor was definitely not for her. She wasn't brave at all. Right then, in fact, she felt queasy and faint and wanted very much to simply be swallowed up by the floor of the Great Hall.

It was then that another horrible thought occurred to her: maybe she wasn't magical after all; maybe it was all just a cruel joke!

It was with trembling legs and knocking knees Lily had walked up to the front of the hall and seated herself on the stool, plopping the hat down over her head. It had covered nearly her whole face and left only her chin sticking out, and she had sighed with relief at not having to face the older students, who she felt were surely all looking at her as though she were less than dirt, most likely mocking the silly Muggle girl who wanted to play witch.

The hat had taken a long time deciding, so long that she'd heard the grey-eyed boy whispering loudly to the other boy—the one with the messy black hair who'd pushed her into the lake, the one McGonagall had called James Potter—that she was probably so dim it was still looking for her brain. She had burned bright red, thankful her face was hidden, and had asked the Hat politely that, if it was going to be taking a bit longer to decide, would it mind teaching her some sort of spell to use on the horrid boy to shut him up? At that, it had chuckled in a hat-like way and sung out "Gryffindor!" for the Great Hall to hear. She'd nearly fainted with relief as she slid off the stool and made her way to the farthest table, the one decorated with red and gold banners with rampant lions, sitting down in the first available seat, across from two much older boys with identical sparkling blue eyes, strawberry-blonde hair, and mischievous grins.

Lily smiled fondly. The Prewetts had been gone for several years; the last she'd heard they were working for the Ministry, and she chuckled to herself. No doubt they were causing mayhem and mischief just as they had during their time at Hogwarts, most likely driving the Minister of Magic completely mad. Troublemakers to the last, it was rumored that they had set the record for Howlers received during their seven years at school. Lily made a mental note to send them one as soon as she had a chance; they would think it was a right joke, and most likely send her one straight back, perhaps of Gideon singing in the shower: something guaranteed to remind the students of Hogwarts that though the Great and All-Powerful Prewetts (Fabian's words, though the nickname caught on quite nicely) were gone at last from the hallowed halls of that "prestigious learning institute", their spirit would forevermore carry on.

She had just began a mental first draft of the Howler when she stopped short, her eyes narrowing as they settled on the four students who had just walked through the barrier from the Muggle station. Lily scowled as hazel eyes met her green ones, and she looked away, her cheerful mood vanishing.

XXXXX

"Oh God, there she is!" James Potter wailed, slumping against the short blonde boy next to him and falling to the floor of the station.

"Buck up, Prongsy," Peter Pettigrew said, leaning down to pat James' already disheveled head. "Don't start moping yet, you haven't even spoken to her."

"Did you see how she was _looking_ at me?" James whimpered up at his friends, looking pitiful. "She _hates _me," he said, slinging an arm across his face dramatically. "Life has no purpose!"

Remus Lupin sighed and rolled his eyes, nodding to Peter and helping him to pull their friend to his feet. "Get off the floor, James, it's filthy."

James whimpered again pathetically, allowing himself to be pulled up. "Padsy, I'm dying," he said, turning to the tall boy next to him. "She's a goddess."

Sirius Black was not paying attention. They had been on the platform for less than thirty seconds, and he was already flirting with a rather pretty fifth year, running his fingers through his shining black hair, grinning at her wolfishly and touching her arm as she asked him why he hadn't replied to her owls over the summer.

"Mafalda, darling, I was in Romania all through the hols!" he explained, sounding hurt. "The owls there must have been dreadful; I wrote you a thousand times at least!" He twirled a lock of her long brown hair around his finger, leaning in to whisper something in her ear. She giggled, and he winked at her, patting her bum as she scampered off. "Lovely girl, that one," he said airily, eyes glued to the backside of her trousers as she skipped down the platform.

"Sirius, you were home all holiday," Remus said, sounding slightly annoyed. "You chased all of her owls off after feeding her letters to the cockroaches living behind the toilet. _And _you called her a wench. That does not sound very lovely to me."

Sirius grinned pleasantly, and ruffled his friend's shaggy brown hair, slinging an arm around the other boy's shoulder. "Moony-my-love," he said, gesturing around the platform, "this is why you do not have a bird: honesty is _never_ the best policy. Why, if I was told the truth to every girl I'd ever snogged, I—"

"You can't even remember the _names_ of every girl you've snogged," James interrupted distractedly, still watching Lily in purported agony as she loaded her trunk onto the train. "Please, can we get back to the undying torment _I_ am in? Evans still _hates _me."

"That's because you're honest with her," Peter suggested helpfully, glancing at Sirius for approval. The taller boy nodded sagely, and Peter continued. "If you lied, then she would like you."

"What would I lie _about_?" James asked scathingly, turning to Peter.

"Erm…" Peter said, blushing. "I don't… Oh, look, there's Marlene!" He scampered off into the crowd, waving to someone they couldn't see.

James sighed far more heavily than what the situation warranted, and continued staring at Lily, his face contorted in pain. "She _hates_ me," he repeated unnecessarily, as she had whirled around when Peter had bumped into her accidentally, and was now shooting icy glares at James.

"She does not _hate_ you," Remus reassured, wincing inwardly as he said it. He was a terrible liar.

"My," Sirius said, unfolding his arm from Remus' shoulder and lugging his trunk out of the way, "but you _are_ horrid at lying, aren't you, Moony?" James wailed, and Sirius rolled his eyes, smacking his best friend upside the skull. "Stop mooning about—sorry, Remus—and just accept your fate: _she will never go out with you_."

James made a disgusted face, and began dragging his trunk to the side of the platform, as they could hear angry voices on the other side demanding to know why the barrier wasn't letting them through. "She _will_ go out with me," he muttered resolutely, swearing and then levitating his trunk onto the train, knocking over a station attendant in the process, who gave him a very dirty look. He grinned at Sirius sheepishly, tapping his head with his wand, causing several pink sparks to fly out of his hair. "I keep forgetting we're of age now. Levitation is no longer illegal!"

"That's the spirit!" Sirius said cheerfully, doing the same to his and Remus' trunks with a flourish. "Now, shall we go find a compartment?"

"Right," James said, and followed Sirius onto the train, pushing Remus along ahead of him.

XXXXX

"Lily!"

Lily turned, relieved to hear a friendly and wanted voice. "Hello Alice!" she said, smiling as her best friend came jogging down the corridor towards her. The plump blonde girl smiled, colliding into Lily with a hug that held enough force to nearly knock her over.

"How was the rest of your summer, then?" Alice asked, stepping back and linking arms with Lily.

"Lovely, except for the ten or so owls I received from _him_ every day," Lily said, making a face. "I can't imagine how I'm going to make it through the rest of the year having to work with that idiot. _How_ he ever got to be Head Boy, I'll never understand…"

Alice sighed, patting Lily's shoulder sympathetically. "He _is_ a nuisance. What of Raoul, though?" She waggled her eyebrows at her friend, and they both giggled.

"Brilliant, actually," Lily said, winking. "Oh, look what he gave me!" She reached into her shirt, pulling out a tiny oval locket on a delicate gold chain. She popped it open, and there was a miniscule picture of Raoul, smiling and flipping his hair about attractively.

Alice giggled when he winked at her and blew a kiss, and she raised her eyebrows at Lily. "I'll assume the original photo wasn't such a flirt?"

"It had a Muggle photo," Lily explained, "but I took it out and replaced it with one from that camera Dorcas gave me for Christmas. Wouldn't have it any other way, now."

"That's brilliant!" Alice said, peering at the tiny waving Frenchman. "Phwoar, he's bloody gorgeous, isn't he?"

"Mmm," Lily agreed, snapping the locket closed and tucking it back inside her blouse. "And now I can look at him any time I want!"

Alice sighed again, shaking her head. "Lucky." She peered in the door of a compartment, nudging Lily inside. "Here, this one's empty."

"All right," Lily said, following Alice in. "I've got to go do Head Girl things in a minute, but let's sit for a moment at least. I'm bloody exhausted. Dad _insisted_ we drive to the station together as a family, even though I assured him it was legal for me to Apparate now." She rolled her eyes. "He was full of 'I don't want my little girl popping off to the station!' and 'it's not safe!' and all that rubbish. I tried to explain the concept of Apparition to him, but he wouldn't have any of it. Honestly, I wish there was a magical theory class for Muggles, he'd lap it right up."

Alice laughed. "I could always lend him my Mum's university textbook?"

Lily snorted. "No, don't. I'd never be able to pull him out of it. Mum'd be furious; he already spends too much time leafing through my school books anyway."

They had barely settled into their seats when the door to the compartment swung open again, and two girls came in, chattering together about that summer's Quidditch World Cup.

"Hello, darlings!" Dorcas Meadows said loudly, flopping across the seat and into Lily's lap. "Can you believe it?" she asked, looking up at her friend and pumping a fist into the air triumphantly. "Poland _finally_ took the cup!"

Lily laughed, and Marlene Engleborne took a seat next to Alice, sticking her tongue out at Dorcas.

"Only because China lost a Chaser during the first ten minutes of the match," Marlene protested, waving a hand as if trying to bat away a pesky fly. "If Li Xiao hadn't been out of commission, it would have been an entirely different story."

"Not a chance," Dorcas scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Xiao is a terrible Chaser anyway."

"Are you _blind_, Meadows?" Marlene exploded, shaking her head. "Xiao is ranked fourth best in the League! If Pietryzyk were even _half_ as good as she is, they might have been able to score a—"

"China's got alright offense, but it's mostly the fault of their Beaters."

The girls all turned to the door, where James Potter had stuck his head in their compartment, having apparently been listening in on the conversation. "Guang should have been able to knock Sawzcyn off his broom, but instead he let the bloody berk score about twenty times," he said lazily, crossing his arms and leaning in the door frame. "Poland's an alright team, but China's just gotten sloppy. This is the third World Cup they've been to in the past six years, and the only one they've lost."

Marlene had sat up, and her mouth was hanging open in indignation. Dorcas, who supported Poland, was looking more and more violent the longer James spoke.

"What do you mean, _alright_?" Dorcas shrieked, clenching her fists. "China couldn't Beat their way out of a soggy cardboard box, but that doesn't mean Poland doesn't have the finest team of Chasers in Quidditch for at _least_ a decade!"

James shrugged infuriatingly. "They're alright, like I said, but they need to focus on their—"

"Can we _help_ you with something?" Lily interrupted in a hiss, looking utterly livid.

"Oh," James said, looking startled and, for the first time, meek. "Erm, yes, meeting… Heads and things… you know?"

"Spit it out," Lily said viciously, her eyes still narrowed.

"We, erm, have to go to the meeting… thing. I was sent to fetch you."

Lily sighed, giving her friends an apologetic look. "I'll see you lot at the feast." They nodded, and she stood up and slipped out of the compartment after James, sliding the door shut behind her quietly. He was waiting for her outside, and turned and began to walk down the corridor when he saw she was following.

"Do you have to _do that_?" she asked angrily, walking slightly behind him as they made their way to the front of the train.

"Do what?" James looked rather pleased that Lily was speaking to him, and continued walking, now with an exaggerated sort of swagger in his step.

"Offend _everyone_ you come in contact with!"

"I do _not_!" he defended, deflating. He stopped, and turned to face her. "I can't help it if your friends don't know a thing about Quidditch!"

"Oh, yes, good job _not_ being offensive, Potter," Lily said nastily, stalking past him.

"Well I _can't_ help it!" he protested, following after her. "And anyway, they've never been exactly pleasant to _me_, now have they?"

"_Perhaps_," Lily said, not turning around as she continued down the corridor, "if you didn't hide in their closets and set fire to their knickers on a regular basis, they would be slightly more willing to make conversation."

"That was only the one time!" James said, indignant. "And it's not as if they were _wearing _them, either! And really, it couldn't have been a big loss, girls are veritably _crawling_ with knickers! The drawers were _stuffed_, and it was only one pair each. They didn't—"

Lily turned abruptly to face James, her wand suddenly out and a centimeter away from his eye. "Shut. Up," she said coolly, her eyes flashing dangerously. "Now, we are going to go inside that compartment—" She jerked her head at the door beside them, "—and we are going to discuss Prefect duties and rounds with the students inside. We will give them their schedules, which _I _made," she said, pulling the aforementioned schedules out of her breast pocket, where they'd been neatly folded, and continued, "and you will smile and direct any questions asked of you to me."

"But I—"

"You will _nothing,_" Lily said dangerously, her wand poised to poke his eye out.

James nodded weakly, looking rather cross-eyed as he tried to look at her wand, which was twitching closer and closer to his eye with every word. "Right," he said meekly, leaning his head back a bit and nodding. "No answering. Schedules."

"Good." Lily said, and jabbed him in the eye for good measure, sweeping inside the compartment with a placid smile on her face as he swore loudly in the hallway. She pulled James, whose eye was bright red and watering, inside the compartment, and shut the door, managing to discretely kick him in the shins in the process. "Right," she said, turning to address the students inside with a smile. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts!"


	2. Of Great Aunts and Exploding Quills

"And so," Lily was saying, "if you've any more questions about your schedules, you can come to me and I'll do what I can to make sure we work something feasible out." She smiled kindly at a new fifth-year Hufflepuff prefect, and tucked her quill behind her ear. "Are there any more questions, then?" No one raised their hand, and she nodded, satisfied. "All right then. Vance, Jones, I'll ask that you take this end of the train, and continue patrolling it until we arrive at Hogwarts. We've only a few minutes to go, really, so let's see…" Her eyes moved around the compartment, analyzing the students before her. "Let's have Dearborn and McKinnon take the last half." She nodded to the four students, who left the compartment, heading towards the ends of the train they had been sent to patrol. "I suggest you all go over your schedules more thoroughly, and check for commitment conflicts—I'd like to get all the snags ironed out before the term gets rolling."

The students began standing up, stretching and yawning, and slowly filed out of the compartment, taking bags and quills and parchment with them. She stopped to talk with a fifth year Gryffindor named Richard Bell for a moment, assuring him that it would be simple to arrange his schedule around Quidditch. James gave her a dirty look, folding his arms testily across his chest. _He_ was captain, after all—what right did she have to speak to him about Quidditch?

"Right," Richard said, looking relieved as he readjusted the strap of his bookbag to better fit his height. "That'll be that, then. Thanks, Lily!"

"Don't worry about it, Richard," she said, smiling. "Do have fun with your group of firsties!"

He laughed, and waved, exiting the compartment.

"Bye then," James said sarcastically once he'd gone, waving half-heartedly. He stood, sliding the compartment door shut with more force than was necessary, and turned to Lily. "What was _that_ about?" he asked angrily, his cheeks pink.

"I'm sure I've no idea what you mean," Lily said coolly, shuffling papers about as she tucked them into a folder that was neatly labeled with a white sticker and read: _LILY EVANS, HEAD GIRL_.

"Bollocks," James said fiercely. "You know exactly what I'm referring to! Making me look like an idiot with no authority whatsoever, as though I've no idea what I'm doing!"

"You _haven't_ any idea what you're doing," Lily said, her voice icy. She swung her heavy bookbag over her shoulder, coming dangerously close to James' midsection, and crossed her arms belligerently. "You weren't even a Prefect. You have no experience or qualifications, and you set a notoriously bad example for the younger students with your cruel and juvenile pranks. I'm beginning to think perhaps Dumbledore _is_ going senile."

"Dumbledore is _not_ going senile!" James roared, clenching his fists angrily. "Just because I'm not some bookish swot does _not_ mean I don't have qualifications for the post!" His face was slowly progressing to a rather vivid shade of puce, and he was breathing heavily through his nose. "And my pranks are _not_ juvenile."

"Oh yes," Lily said scathingly, flipping her hair over her shoulder with disdain. "Blowing up people's heads and dangling your enemies by their feet is just _so_ lofty and mature. I expect you ought to receive an Order of Merlin any day now for _that_ one."

"You've no right to—"

"Any only 'bookish swots' become Prefects?" Lily barreled on, ignoring James' outraged protests. "I'm sure Remus will be _quite_ happy to know he's a bookish swot. He'll appreciate it _greatly_! Perhaps we can sit around in the common room together, discussing the Method of Transfiguration and being general _tossers_!"

"I did not say you were—"

"But perhaps I'm too swotty even for that!" Lily continued, glaring viciously. "In fact, I suppose I'm just too bookish to even be held in your oh-so _marvelous_ company."

"I never said—"

"Oh, go throw yourself in the lake!" Lily shouted, sweeping out of the compartment and sliding the door shut in his face angrily.

XXXXX

By the time the Hogwarts Express began pulling into Hogsmeade station, Lily had calmed down considerably. Changing into her school robes had done wonders for her mood, and she felt cool and in control again.

There had to be something about him, she mused, that made her lose it like that. Something inherent in his nature, perhaps, something that pushed her buttons to the point of overload. He was infuriating to the last. Lily tended to think of herself as a calm, rational, reasonable person, but James Potter… He drove her completely and utterly mad.

She made a frustrated noise and, smoothing her robes about her, slid open the compartment door, and stepped out into the hallway. Immediately, she was accosted by several small students, first years, who were confused and panicking.

"It's all right," Lily said soothingly, steering them towards the exit. "Just step down onto the platform, there'll be someone calling for the first years. You just go with them, and they'll make sure you get up to the school."

"But what about our trunks?" asked one small red-headed boy, wild-eyed and panicked.

"Don't worry about it, they'll be taken care of. Just make sure you get down on the platform and—no, don't run! You won't be left behind! Just wait—_calmly_—until you're directed where to go."

They nodded and scurried off, and Lily smiled. They were so innocent, so fresh-faced and eager, ready to begin their career at Hogwarts. She remembered how excited she had been to start school. The first trip to Diagon Alley with her parents had been so terrifying, even with their guide. It had been a large group of Muggle-born students and parents, all nervous and confused, exchanging Muggle pounds for Galleons, wide-eyed with amazement when they first stepped through the Leaky Cauldron and onto the street. It had been that day that Lily's mother had purchased the family owl, Frederick. When the shopkeeper had asked if they would have any trouble keeping it in a Muggle household, Francine had firmly shaken her head and insisted that "if this is the way to send post while Lily's at school, we'll manage somehow".

_It's hard to believe it's my last year at school_, Lily thought to herself, glancing around the train. _There'll never be another first day again._

Resolutely, she gathered her bag about her, and stepped off the train, taking a deep breath of the fresh air. If it was her last year, she was going to make damn sure it was her best—James Potter or no.

XXXXX

"And now," James was complaining, hand over his eye, "I can't see out of this eye, _and_ she thinks I called her a bookish swot!"

"You _did_ call her a bookish swot," Remus pointed out mildly, gathering his things as they readied themselves to step off the train. "And me as well, actually."

"I didn't _mean_ it!" James protested, trying to shove a large box of Dungbombs into his bag while still nursing his eye. "And then she told me to throw myself in the lake!"

"It would only be fair," Remus said, still infuriatingly calm. "After all, you've tossed her in enough times."

"That was _second year_!" James bellowed, slinging his bag over his shoulder violently.

"Ah, but a good prank never dies!" Sirius piped up, looking abnormally cheerful. "Perhaps if we tossed her in again she'd cool off a bit."

"We are _not throwing her in the lake_!" James said, slamming the compartment door open and stomping out. "I will find _some other way_ to deal with this. She _will_ go out with me!"

Remus sighed, and Peter echoed him, shaking his head.

"He's never going to learn, is he?" Peter asked, frowning. "She's going to hate him _forever_ and we'll be stuck hearing about it until we're too old to duff him up anymore."

"I shall _never_ be too old to duff Prongs up," Sirius insisted, walking out of the compartment. Remus and Peter followed, and they stepped off the train and onto the platform. They watched James as he began rounding up several third-years who were mouthing off to the station manager, shooing them towards the looming figure of the gamekeeper, Rubeus Hagrid. One of them tried to scurry off, and James gave a war-cry, veritably tossing the younger boy across the platform.

"Do you… think Dumbledore is perhaps a bit mad?" Peter asked uncertainly as they observed James disciplinary skills. "I mean, James? He's our mate and all, but Head Boy?"

"I suppose he was thinking of third year," Remus said, frowning. "But yes, I think he's possibly quite insane."

They watched James telling off a fourth-year who had stealthily removed a Dungbomb from his pocket, and looked to be trying to drop it in an elderly witch's shopping bag. James scolded him for a moment, then apparently began to teach him the proper way to light and discard a Dungbomb without being seen. Remus sighed deeply, and Peter shook his head.

"Barmy, I'm sure," Sirius said happily. "But all the better for us, eh lads? I expect we'll scrape by without a single detention this year! We've got _connections_, now."

"Oh dear," Remus said, looking quite forlorn.

"Come on Moony, chin up!" Sirius said, grabbing Remus' arm. "On to the carriages! Don't want to keep the feast waiting!" He dragged Remus across the platform towards the horseless carriages that awaited the students outside the station as Peter followed, struggling to keep up.

XXXXX

"Lily, over here!"

Lily turned about, and saw Gwenog Jones, another Gryffindor seventh year girl waving out the window of one of the carriages. She waved back, and made her way through the crowd, stopping only briefly to tell off the same fourth year boy from the station that'd had the Dungbombs for running. She climbed into the carriage, where she found Alice, Dorcas, and Marlene already inside and seated together, as well as the seventh year Ravenclaw prefect, Hestia Jones, who was sitting next to the window. Gwenog scooted over on the seat, and Lily sat down next to the door, pulling it shut and setting her bag in her lap.

"So, how was the meeting?" Alice asked. She was tying her short blonde hair back, and made a noise of frustration as several strands slipped out of the band. "Urghk! I knew I shouldn't have gotten a new style."

"It looks lovely, Alice," Lily said, grinning. "But I _did_ warn you you'd hate it."

"You were right," Alice conceded, giving up. "I will never doubt you again, oh wise Lily."

Lily laughed, leaning back in her seat. "The meeting was fine, except for bloody Potter."

"What'd he do now?" Gwenog asked, making a face. She had always had a sore spot where James was concerned, ever since a rather heated debate fifth year in which he had loudly proclaimed that girls were unfit to Seek in Quidditch. "Being a prat as usual, I assume?"

"Of course," Lily said. "He was going on about how he _deserves_ to be Head Boy—when we all know it should have gone to Remus—and how he'd 'done plenty' to earn it. Bollocks, in my opinion."

Marlene scoffed. "Potter's barely done a single thing to deserve being _alive_, never mind being Head Boy."

"Just ignore him, Lily," Alice said, leaning across to pat Lily's shoulder.

"Alice is right," Hestia agreed, looking sympathetic. Not being a member of Gryffindor house, she didn't know James all that well, but she'd heard enough about him throughout the course of her friendship with Lily to understood very well exactly how obnoxious he could be. "He only does it to rile you up."

"Yes, I expect so," Lily muttered, taking the comb Alice had offered and running it through her thick red hair, wincing when it caught a tangle. "He's quite talented at it, at any rate."

"Practice, I'm sure," Gwenog joked, sucking on a Sugar Quill.

"Urgh, let's not even talk about him," Lily said, waving a hand dismissively.

The carriage started moving, jostling and bumping along in the line, and the girls all held on to the edges of their seats.

"So, what's this Alice tells me about a French Uni student?" Marlene said, grinning. "Bit of excitement over the hols, hm?"

"A Uni student?" Hestia asked, raising her eyebrows. "Muggle, or wizard?"

"A Muggle," Lily said, fingering the locket. "His name is Raoul… He promised he'd give Mum letters to post to me, so perhaps I'll get one soon."

"Show them the locket!" Alice said, giggling. "He's fit as all get-out, I'm telling you."

Lily obliged, leaning forward so her friends could crowd around, making like "oooh" and "ahhh" noises as photo-Raoul strutted about his picture, brushing his hair back from his face and grinning seductively.

"Sweet Merlin," Gwenog breathed, staring at the photo. "Now _there's_ a face to take home to mother!"

"And I'll tell you," Lily said, grinning cheekily, "I didn't take him home much. Mum went into convulsions, dithering about the place. I think she rather fancied the idea of having a younger man about the house."

"Oh!" Hestia said, suddenly laughing. "I forgot to tell you! You know my great-great-auntie, Elspeth? Well, she's gone and gotten _engaged_!"

"At _her_ age?" Dorcas said, aghast. "Aren't there some sort of _laws_ preventing that?"

"No, no," Hestia said, laughing, "the best part is this: he's _twenty-five years old_!"

Lily burst out laughing, as did all the other girls in the carriage. They had all had the good (or not so good, depending on your interpretation) fortune to have met Elspeth Jones over last year's Christmas holidays when they'd come to stay with Hestia for a few days, and it had been an experience to remember. The older witch was crude, vulgar, and held nothing back, always saying what she felt the moment a thought popped into her head. She was wickedly funny, but could be alarming if you weren't expecting it. "The privilege of old age," she had called it, and patted the Hestia's elder brother, Paul, on the bum.

"But she must be at _least_ a hundred!" Alice said, looking as though she wasn't sure whether to be amused or horrified.

"One hundred and seven next month," Hestia laughed, shaking her head. "There's some life left in the old bird yet, I imagine."

The girls took a collective moment to glance at each other, then broke out into peals of hysterical laughter, and continued giggling all the way up to the castle.

XXXXX

"Did you see which coach Evans is in?" James asked Sirius, peering out the window of the carriage he was sharing with Remus, Peter, and Sirius.

"Second from the bend in the road," Sirius said absentmindedly, leafing through a Zonko's catalogue. "Hell-lo, look at this! Zonko's has a new line of trick quills in!"

Next to Sirius, Remus rolled his eyes. He enjoyed a good prank as well as the next bloke (though perhaps not as well as the particular bloke beside him) but trick quills and vanishing parchment were just not something he was amused by.

"Really, Pads," he said, leaning over to have a look at the ad, "I'd have thought you'd be bored with those by now. It's not as though you haven't used them—no one would take a quill you lent them anymore, anyway."

"But that's not the point," Sirius said, pouting. "They enhance morale!"

"Not the morale of the unlucky sod whose quill explodes all over his Defense Essay," Remus chastised.

"You, Mister Moony, are no fun," Sirius said, jabbing Remus in the chest with a finger. "No fun at all."

"Yes, well, someone has to keep you lot under control," Remus said, and Peter giggled loudly.

"Do you think Evans is still angry with me?" James asked, still trying to see the carriage she was in from the window.

"Yes," was the unanimous answer, chorused loudly and by all three of his friends.

"Shut up about Evans already," Sirius said, kicking James in the shin. "We've got planning to do, you know."

James perked up immediately, still rubbing his shin. "Right! What of the feast, then? Have we anything—"

"James," Remus interrupted with a sigh, "are you _seriously_ considering pranking the feast?"

"…Yes?" James said, looking confused as to why Remus would possibly doubt for a moment what he had in mind.

"Oh dear," Peter said, mimicking Remus' sigh.

"What is _wrong_ with you lot?" Sirius said suspiciously, looking from Remus to Peter.

"You tell him," Remus said to Peter, looking utterly exhausted. "I can't bear another moment."

"Well, Lily's quite angry with you still," Peter said, looking to Remus for approval. Remus nodded, and he continued, "So by playing a prank at the feast, she'll only be angrier when she finds out it was you—and she _will_, you know, she always does."

"Oh, bollocks," Sirius said, rolling his eyes. "Prongs, you're not really considering—"

"He's _right_ though," James said, anguished. "I'll have to hold off."

"Oh for—" Sirius said, looking furious. "You've _got_ to be joking me!"

"Oh, it is a tragic, tragic life I lead," James wailed, banging his head against the carriage window.

"At any rate," Peter continued, pleased his last lecture had gone so well, "you're Head Boy now. So you probably shouldn't—"

"Shut it, Wormtail," James said testily, stopping his self-abuse to look at Peter.

"Right," said Peter meekly. "Shutting up, then."

They spent the rest of the short ride not talking, the only sounds punctuating the silence being Sirius' woeful sighs and the banging noises as James continued to slam his head against the window.

As they stepped out of the carriage, Sirius surveyed the castle fondly, seeming to cheer up a bit.

"Well, lads, it's our last year," he said, stretching his arms as if to hug the school. "We'll have to give it our best go, to ensure that the Marauders go down in Hogwarts history!"

Peter cheered a little, and even Remus smiled, a slow sort of grin that started at the corner of his lips and spread across his face. James whooped, and jumped on Sirius, and together they ran lopsidedly up to the castle, with Remus and Peter trailing behind.

"This is going to be the best year ever, isn't it Moony?" Peter said, grinning like a small boy.

"I certainly hope so, Pete," Remus said, ruffling his friend's hair. "I certainly hope so."


	3. Martin Miggs Strikes Back

"Good lord," Gwenog whispered to Alice, staring at the staff table. "Would you look at Kettleburn's hair?"

"He rather looks as though he's been electrunkated, doesn't he?" Alice whispered back, eyes wide in alarm.

"Electrocuted," Lily corrected in a whisper, eyes rapt on Dumbledore as he concluded his speech. "Oh dear," she said, wincing as the Great Hall broke out into hundreds of mismatched and out-of-tune versions of the school song. "I _do_ wish he would skip it, once in a while."

Dorcas stuck her tongue out at Lily, and continued singing in the tune (if you could call it that) of what Lily assumed to be the latest popular punk song, screaming and thrashing her head around. Eventually the din died away, and Dumbledore clapped his hands merrily. "Tuck in!" he said, and the school happily did so.

"Looks like we've turned out a nice crop of firsties this year," Gwenog commented around the half-roll she was chewing. "That big one looks like he'll make a fine Beater, once we're trained him up a bit."

"No Quidditch talk," Alice moaned, savoring a large portion of steamed carrots with her eyes closed. "It'sch faw coo uwwy 'n duh t'rm."

"What's that Alice?" Dorcas asked, clapping her friend on the back heartily. "Can't quite make out what you're saying, but I could have _sworn_ you said it was too early for talking about Quidditch."

Alice didn't reply, as she was too busy choking. She shot Dorcas a dirty look, but as she was purple and convulsing, it was less than terrifying.

"Ack," Lily said, a spoonful of pudding stopping halfway to her mouth. "What on _Earth_ is that second-year doing with the salt shaker?"

"My," Marlene said admiringly, swallowing. "That's an impressive gag reflex, isn't it?"

Lily sighed, and rose from the table. "I'll be right—"

Down the table, the boy was coughing up the salt shaker, looking very sheepish indeed as a very stern and responsible-looking James Potter told him off, finger-shaking and everything.

"Well I'll _be_!" Dorcas whistled, looking slightly alarmed. "Potter's acting the disciplinarian?"

Lily sat back down, gaping, unable even to speak.

"I think he just gave him detention," Alice whispered solemnly, looking shell-shocked.

"Dear Lord in heaven," Marlene said, crossing herself instinctively. "Do you think he's well?"

Down the table, James had apparently chastised the boy properly, and was sitting back down between Sirius and Peter, rolling his eyes. He grinned at something Sirius said, and glanced down the table. He caught Lily's eye and smiled, running a hand through his hair. Lily raised an eyebrow, and turned away, frowning thoughtfully.

"He's up to something," she announced, viciously attacking the cranberry sauce on her plate with a forkful of turkey.

The girls nodded, generally accepting that James Potter was _always_ up to something, and finished their meal, putting it out of mind. They would, they had learned, find out eventually, and until then, it was better to simply pretend nothing was wrong.

XXXXX

"She really does hate me, doesn't she?" James said, still staring down the table at Lily, who was now animatedly talking to her friends. He frowned down into his potatoes, looking as though he blamed them for everything that was wrong with his love life (or lack thereof).

"Looks like," Sirius agreed, looking not upset at all. "My, but this is some fantastic pudding."

Peter grinned, for he was feeling an odd surge of joy and general love for everyone and everything. "Know what, Prongs?" he said, stabbing at a bit of cabbage on his plate thoughtfully. James grunted, and Peter chose to interpret it as 'Why, Peter, what brilliant observation have you stumbled upon? Please, share it with us!' and continued, "She'll come around. They always do. And also, we should just enjoy the food and company. This _is_ fantastic pudding," he said taking a spoonful from Sirius' bowl.

"Well spoken, Wormtail," Sirius said, nodding sagely and in turn stealing a large chunk of pork roast from Remus' plate. "Moony, you are not eating your vegetables."

"There are no vegetables on my plate, Sirius," Remus said, looking down at his meal. "I do not _like_ vegetables. Hence, I do not take any to eat."

"Vegetables are _good_ for you," Sirius argued, poking at a radish with his fork.

"I'm sure they are," Remus said, making a face at the radish, "but I still do not like them."

"Eat the radish, Moony," Sirius demanded, leaning across the table and waving it in Remus' face. "You could get scurvy, after all."

"I am not going to—mmph!" Sirius shoved the radish into Remus' mouth, and Remus choked, violently expelling the vegetable from his lungs, and it flew across the table to land in Peter's gravy. Peter didn't notice, and continued eating happily, glassy-eyed and content. Sirius sniggered, and Remus wiped his tongue on his napkin frantically, trying to banish the taste from his mouth.

"See?" Sirius said, beaming. "Good for you."

"I am going to decapitate while you sleep," Remus said mildly, wiping his mouth carefully and almost daintily.

"Well I will be full of pudding," Sirius said cheerfully, chocolate smeared at the corners of his mouth. He patted his stomach, leaning back precariously in his chair. "So you will be covered in pudding if you do."

The table changed, and suddenly was filled with all sorts of desserts. James sighed and Peter squealed and Sirius instantly leaned forward, re-anchoring all four legs of his chair with a pleasant "thunk".

"Excellent," he said, heaping treacle and pie onto his plate. "Dessert!"

Remus smiled, and helped himself to a large slice of Bavarian chocolate cake. Yes, he decided, it would be a good year indeed.

XXXXX

"Evans, wait up!"

Lily sighed, and stopped at the foot of the dormitory stairs, turning to watch James jog up to her. "Yes?" She was in a good mood, and was unwilling to spoil it, even for Potter. She kept her tone light and pleasant, and was quite proud when she didn't even shoot him a nasty glare.

"Hello," James panted, leaning on his knee for a moment and flashing a winning smile.

"Yes, hello," Lily said, not batting an eyelash. "What is it now?"

"Right," James said, standing up with a flourish. "So several of the Prefects have spoken to me about schedule conflicts, and I said we'd go over them tonight."

Lily bit back a flash of annoyance. "They spoke to you, did they?"

James refused to be fazed, and nodded. "They did. I was going over it in my head, and I'm fairly sure we can work something out, even if it's not perfect."

Lily sighed. "All right, what are the conflicts? I'll see what I can work out before bed."

James frowned. "Well there are a fair few," he said, looking apologetic. "And I think it'd be better if we fixed it together. You know, so we could be on the same level."

"I imagine you do," she said, crossing her arms. "However, it'll be much more efficient if I just do it."

"Yes but we're supposed to work _together_," James protested, looking slightly hurt. "That's the point of being Head Boy and Head Girl."

"Look," Lily started, frustrated. "I can just do them tonight and—"

"No," James argued, standing firm. "If we're going to be Heads all year, you can't keep avoiding me."

Lily looked incredulous. "I'm not avoiding you—"

"You _are_," James insisted, shaking his head. "And it's stupid. It doesn't matter if you hate me, because we're supposed to work together."

"It's just a silly little schedule, it's not—"

"It might not be important, but at least it's something to start with!" James exploded, throwing up his hands. "It's the _very_ least you could do!"

Lily sighed, rolling her eyes. "All right," she said, giving in. "Let's just get it over with, then." She took a seat in one of the squashy armchairs by the fireplace, crossing her ankles and smoothing her skirt over her knees.

"Right," James said, trying to keep the note of triumphant glee out of his voice, scooting another chair over so that it was right next to hers and sitting down. "So, here's what I've got."

XXXXX

"Home home homey home home!" Sirius said, jumping onto his bed, which was still directly in the center of the room, where he'd grunted and shoved and pushed and pulled it to after the first week of their first year, having proclaimed himself "King of the Dormitory". "My, I think there's a new mattress," he said, sounding delighted. "I do believe it's much springier than last year."

"Well, it's not as though they were going to leave it the way it was," Peter said. He sounded slightly muffled, though that was likely because his entire upper body was somewhere in the vast depths of his trunk. "Not after you and Belinda—"

"That's enough!" Sirius said, his voice raising several octaves. "No need to speak of the past, Wormtail old chap. What's done is done."

Remus cackled quietly into his book (_A History of Modern Rune Word Methods and the Wizards who are Obsessed With Them_) as Peter continued rooting around in his trunk. "She was quite good-looking," Peter said, still muffled. "And really, you two must have been getting _marvelous_ exercise to have broken _all_ the springs. She couldn't have been more than five one, and she was—"

"Gaaaah," Sirius said, kicking Peter's ankle. Peter fell all the way into his trunk, which his mother had apparently modified to fit all his belongings. "Enough, Pete!"

Peter climbed out of the trunk, looking disgruntled and grasping a ratty stuffed crup.

"Oh God, Pete," Sirius said, looking disgusted. "You _still_ have that thing?"

Peter clutched the toy to his chest defensively, glaring at Sirius. "His _name_," he said angrily, "is _Wilbur_. Not 'that thing'."

"You are a sad individual, mate," Sirius said, shaking his head. "Right, I'm off for a shower. Tell Prongs not to touch my pillow when he gets back from his little Evans-romp." He strode out the door, stripping as he went, towel slung over his shoulder.

Remus rolled his eyes and sighed, and turned back to his book, ignoring Peter's coos of "he's just a bull-headed git, Wilbur, ignore him."

XXXXX

"Dorcas," Alice said, looking around the Gryffindor seventh-year girls' dorm with her hands on her hips, "I think that our room has gotten smaller, if possible."

"I think we've only gotten bigger," Dorcas said, tossing her bag onto her bed and flopping down with a heaving sigh. "Good lord, the house elves really outdid themselves this year, didn't they? I'm full to bursting."

"I concur," said Marlene, easing on to her bed with several muffled groans and a loud "oof!" which was followed by a long, contented sigh.

"Is Lily on her way back, then?" Gwenog asked, coming into the room with a towel wrapped around her head.

"'magine so," Alice said, lying back on her bed. "She's been gone a bit though… Perhaps she had Head Girl things to do?"

No sooner had she spoken than the door burst open, and Lily stomped in, looking more than slightly annoyed. "He," she said, kicking her trunk open violently, "is a giant git."

"Potter again?" Gwenog asked, leaning her head to the side and trying to thump the water out of her ears with the palm of her hand.

"Yes, _Potter_," Lily said, rifling through her things. "I would very much like," she said, dragging her shirt off over her head and tossing it across the room, pulling her nightshirt on and digging through her trunk again, "to disembowel him ritualistically."

"What's he done now?" Alice said kindly, closing her eyes and patting her stomach.

"He just _exists_," Lily explained, stomping out of the room, toothbrush and paste in hand.

"Oh dear," said Alice, looking slightly distraught.

"Ang goo know gwuh?" Lily said, stomping back into the room, this time foaming at the mouth as she brushed furiously. "I ood gnot 'eel goory gnor 'in, eiger."

"Err…" Dorcas said, staring at Lily. "You're, erm, foaming."

Lily spat the toothpaste all over the floor. "I wouldn't feel sorry for him either," she repeated, stomping back out of the room. Alice sighed and Marlene cast a quick _Evanesco_ charm on the floor, vanishing Lily's toothpaste mess. Lily stomped back in, scrubbing her face with a washcloth just as brutally. "He is so _frustrating_!" Her face was quickly turning bright pink, and the other girls looked on in mild terror.

"So, I take it, erm, it didn't go well?" Gwenog ventured, wincing when Lily hurled the washcloth out the open window, shrieking and vanishing back into the bathroom.

"I think that would be an 'it did not go well'," Dorcas confirmed.

XXXXX

"It went _brilliantly_," James shouted, bursting into the boys' dorm with all the finesse of a crippled elephant. Sirius was perched on top of the canopy of his bed, wearing nothing but his favorite pair of red plaid boxer shorts and smoking a cigarette, and Remus looked up absentmindedly from his bed, where he was still immersed in the fascinating discoveries of modern rune word theory. Peter was already asleep and was snoring rather loudly.

"_Silencio_," Remus said, and Peter's snoring was cut off as though with a sharpened axe. "Oh?" he said to James, looking only mildly interested. "What happened, then?"

"It was bloody fantastic," James raved, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet like some sort of mad drug addict. "She didn't hex me or punch me or _anything_, and we were sitting quite close and she smells like _apples_ and _vanilla _and I _love her_!"

Sirius snorted from on top of his bed, and then coughed, as he'd accidentally inhaled the smoke from the cigarette through his nose, and swore violently, snorting and hacking.

James, in an astounding feat of acrobatic ability, leapt atop Sirius' bed to join his friend, shaking him heartily so that the cigarette dangling from his lips flicked ashes everywhere and nearly fell out, wobbling madly.

"Gaaah!" Sirius said, batting at his legs, where tiny smoldering orange bits had dropped.

"Padsy, let's go _do_ something!" James demanded, bouncing up and down. This caused a sort of trampoline effect, and Sirius was jostled about, until he finally rolled off the canopy, landing less-than-gracefully on his feet on the dormitory floor.

"Prongs, you are _raving_," Sirius said, flicking the butt of the cigarette out the window. "But I cannot say no to adventure."

"Oh yes you can," Remus spoke up, setting his book down on his nightstand. "It's _quite_ late, you two, and it's the first day of classes tomorrow. Not to mention," he added, "James has apparently just made the one good impression of his life on Lily, and if he were to go gallivanting about the corridors in the middle of the night, he would ruin that quite soundly."

"You are no fun, Moony," Sirius said, pouting. "Can't we go celebrate just a _little_ bit?"

"Pads, no. We have _class _tomorrow. Double Transfiguration _first thing_."

James and Sirius sighed in tandem, and James climbed down off the top of Sirius' bed, landing soundly on the floor. "I'm going to go shower," he said, and danced out of the room.

"No fun," Sirius repeated, sticking his tongue out at Remus and climbing into his bed.

"You'll thank me in the morning," Remus said, muttering a soft "_nox_" and snuggling down under the covers, falling asleep almost instantly, though not fast enough to not hear Sirius mutter "I will _not_."

XXXXX

Lily frowned, rolling over in bed. She could hear Dorcas snoring faintly in the bed across the room, and Alice muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "the chocolate frogs are eating his toes". Marlene and Gwenog were as silent as always, and Lily let out a deep sigh, turning onto her side.

There had to be something to it, she mused for what seemed like the thousandth time that day. There was just no possible way he could drive her as completely mad as he did without there being _something_ wrong with either her or him. Clearly, he was mad.

Lily made a frustrated noise, and sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She squinted into the darkness, where the alarm clock on her bedside table read half-past two o'clock. She could never sleep the day before the first day of school, never had been able to, even in primary school. It wasn't as though she was nervous; Hogwarts was her second home, perhaps even her first. She had finished all her summer homework, had every supply she needed for her classes, and was prepared in every way possible for the coming school year. But still, somehow, she just couldn't sleep.

She slid her feet into her slippers, and stood up, silently crossing the room and opening the door, stepping out into the hallway. She padded down the hallway to the stairs that led to the common room, stepping down the carpeted stairway quietly. A fire was crackling merrily in the fireplace, as always, and a lone house elf looked up from where it had been slipping a stray tome into its rightful place on the bookshelf, terrified.

"No, don't worry," Lily said, holding up her hands in apology. "You don't need to—"

The house elf disappeared with a loud crack, dropping the book, and Lily winced. She walked over to the bookshelf and picked up the book, sliding it into the shelf between _A Niffler's Guide to Galleons_ and _Quidditch Through the Ages_. She inspected the bookshelf then, and pulled out a copy of _Martin Miggs the Mad Muggle: Twentieth Anniversary Collection_, taking over to a chair by the fireplace. She noted sourly that it was the same chair from earlier, and that the chair James had been sitting in was still pulled alongside it. She opened the comic book and began to read, crossing her legs underneath her.

XXXXX

_What the…_ James frowned, coming down the stairs into the common room. _Who would be up at _this_ hour?_ For someone _was _awake, sitting in a chair by the fireplace, head bowed in concentration, apparently reading. James stood for a moment, staring, until he realized who it was. He realized his mouth had gone dry, and licked his lips. The fire popped loudly, and he swore under his breath as Lily jumped and turned around, seeing him at the foot of the stairs.

"What are you doing?" she said, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"I couldn't sleep," James said defensively, stepping down into the common room. "I wasn't _up to something_, so don't look at me like that."

"I wasn't looking at you like anything," Lily said, but her expression softened. She looked away, turning back to the comic in her lap. James gulped, realizing she was wearing only a pair of boys' boxer shorts and a rather large t-shirt.

"What are you reading?" he asked tentatively, coming over and sitting in the chair next to her. Lily lifted the cover momentarily so he could read the title, and he grinned. "Martin Miggs! I never would have figured you for a comic book reader, Li—Evans."

A smile quirked at the corner of her mouth for a moment. "I'm not, really, but it was lying around. It's actually quite terrible," she said, frowning down at it. "Muggle comics are much better."

"But the pictures don't move in Muggle comics!" James protested. "How can they be as exciting?"

"You have to use your imagination," Lily said, smirking. "Something which _you_ have an overabundance of."

"It is not _overabundant_," James sniffed haughtily. "I put it to quite good use, thank you."

"Oh ho!" Lily laughed, despite herself. "You put it to _use_, no doubt, but whether it's good use or not is quite debatable. I hardly think itching powder and Dungbombs are a proper use of imagination."

"They're _quite_ proper," James argued, grinning as well. "They bring smiles to the faces of the little children!" he said dramatically, flinging his arms about. "Joy to those who are lacking happiness! Sorrow to those who deserve it!"

"They don't _always_ deserve it," Lily said, suddenly less cheerful. "Sometimes they're quite cruel."

"Not anymore," James said sincerely, fighting the urge to take her hand. He had painfully learned, during what he claimed was a bad concussion during fourth year, that trying to hold Lily Evans' hand was a quick way to earn a bad beating. "A lot of things have happened that… Well, I mean, I'm Head Boy, aren't I? And maybe I don't know _why_ Dumbledore chose me, but he did, and I've got to live up to that." Lily was looking at James curiously, as though trying to gauge his intent. "I _know_ I've been a bit of an idiot in the past—"

"More than a bit," Lily mumbled, glaring into the fire.

"—a giant idiot," James continued, suddenly very interested in a loose thread in his pajama trousers, "but I know I've been a berk, and I'm doing my best to teach myself not to be, honest."

Lily nodded thoughtfully. "Well, that would be lovely if you were being honest—"

"I _am_," James bust out, looking frustrated.

"—but I'm not going to believe you—" James looked crestfallen, and Lily held up a hand to continue, "—until I _see_ it. And until then," she said, standing up, "I am going to sleep. Goodnight, Potter." She marched across the room and up her dormitory stairs, taking _Martin Miggs_ with her and leaving James to sit alone by the fire, deep in thought, until morning.


	4. Mornings: an Interlude

Remus liked mornings. There was something about them that made him feel so alive, so _human._ Perhaps it was the fresh, clean scent, the comfortable quiet of bodies still asleep, breathing rhythmically and peacefully. Morning was Remus' favorite time of day.

He rose before anyone else in the dormitory, as he had for the previous six years, and crept across the room quietly, not wanting to wake his friends. James and Peter could sleep through a hippogriff attack, and had on at least one very memorable occasion, but Sirius often woke when Remus left the room—no doubt due to a childhood spent in the Black household, where someone entering your room while you slept was more likely to have a drawn wand ready with a vicious hex than a tray of kippers and scones.

Remus stopped in the doorway for a moment, gazing around the dorm. It was mostly the same room it had been first year: Remus' books still littered the floor and dressers and shelves, Peter's odd tinkering inventions still covered his trunk and hung from his bedposts, and James' and Sirius' Quidditch posters still papered the walls, though almost all of the _Martin Miggs_ posters that had been present first and second year had been replaced by busty blonde _Playwizard_ models, each in various stages of undress and all winking suggestively and blowing kisses at the delighted boys. They were all asleep now, and Remus was grateful—they were lovely to look at, aesthetically pleasing at the very least, but their tittering did tend to grate on one's nerves.

Sirius made an unhappy noise in the back of his throat, and rolling over with a faint whimper. Remus looked at him for a moment more, as wild-haired and awkward in sleep as he was groomed and debonair awake, and slipped out of the room, down the hall to the bathroom.

In the bathroom, he stood in front of the mirror and washed his face and hands, then began brushing his molars methodically in small circular motions. He stared into the mirror blankly, shaking his hair out of his eyes. He realized he would have to cut it soon, and sighed into the foamy paste. Perhaps he could get Lily or Alice to cut it—he was not keen on re-experiencing the destruction that had occurred last time he let Sirius anywhere near his head with a pair of clippers. It had been one of the few times he had been glad to be a werewolf, for his hair grew back within the week, and he was able to abandon the terrible wool hat Frank Longbottom had lent him. The flaps had, in fact, kept his ears quite toasty, but he had looked ridiculous, and had been more than glad to be rid of it.

He spat the toothpaste into the basin, cupping water into his mouth and rinsing the taste of mint away. He stared into the mirror, looking critically at the amber eyes that stared back. They were rather odd eyes, he mused, blinking several times. Light brownish-gold, with little flecks of dark brown and olive. Not everyone had eyes like his, he knew, though he was fairly sure it could be attributed to his "condition". He had had brown eyes when he was younger. Plain, boring, Remus-like brown eyes. Many of the pictures that littered the Lupins' fireplace mantle showed a happy young boy with dark hair and those normal brown eyes, smiling up into the camera from whatever mischief he was getting into. Everything about him seemed to have lightened, in the year that followed "the Incident". His hair had been deep brown, nearly black, but had slowly turned to the light golden-brown that was the color of his pelt when he was the wolf, just as his eyes now betrayed flecks of gold, the color of they were when he transformed. It seemed to him as though his personality had faded away as well following his "accident". He had been a loud child, bright and curious and utterly fascinated with the sound of his own voice. After the bite, he had withdrawn from his friends and family, no longer eager and inquisitive, becoming timid and quiet, always thinking before he acted or spoke, and always careful to be mindful of every aspect of a situation he entered into.

If it weren't for the blood-lust, the terrible responsibility that came with it and turned it into such a curse, Remus thought he might not mind being a werewolf. It was painful to transform, but once he was the wolf, he felt such power, such strength. It was unlike being human, completely and totally. When Remus was human, he was awkward and quiet most times, unwilling to speak for fear of embarrassing himself. When he transformed, though…

It was like having liquid steel for muscle and mercury for blood. He was quick and clever and so completely _powerful_. It was almost too much to bear, sometimes: like living in the darkness your entire life, and then suddenly being thrust into the sunshine. Like having a terrible cold, the kind where your nose and your lungs plug up and you can barely breathe, and suddenly, being cured in a room full of delicious and fragrant food. His eyes could catch the tiniest twitch of a mouse's whisker at a hundred meters; his nose could scent fresh blood from a mile away. And the confidence! The wolf was not afraid of anything. The wolf _knew _it was the alpha dog.

Remus shook his head, clearing his thoughts. Now was not the time. Really, there was never a time. It would be so easy, he thought now, as he had many times before, just to give in to the wolf. To completely give up, to let the wolf take over his human side until he was nothing but half-man half-beast at the very best. But that was not Remus, and he never wanted it to be. Resolutely, Remus turned from the mirror, running straight into Sirius.

"Unghf!" Sirius said, and fell to the floor, still half-dazed from sleep. "Whass goin' on, Moony?"

"Padfoot! What on Earth are you doing up at—" Remus checked his watch, grimacing. "—Six in the morning?" He bent down and held out a hand to pull Sirius up.

"Haffa take a shiiiiit," Sirius yawned, allowing himself to be pulled up. "'Scuse me." He brushed past Remus to the toilet, closing the stall door behind him.

"Delightful," Remus said brightly, taking his towel and heading for the showers.

By the time he'd emerged, pressed and dressed and clean and smelling like "Zestfully Manly Bubble Shampoo" (Sirius', and the only thing on hand) Sirius was brushing his teeth in a zombie-like state and mumbling dirty words in Latin.

"Pads, why are you calling my mother a child prostitute daughter of a shrew?"

"Is that what I'm saying, then?"

"Err, yes. Thought it might actually be 'daughter of a child prostitute shrew'. I'm not quite sure. My grasp of the language is a bit rusty."

"Faschinating." Sirius sounded anything but fascinated, and took the toothbrush out of his mouth. "What language would that be, then?"

"Ah… Latin," Remus said, looking slightly worried. "You don't know _that_ many languages, do you?"

"I didn't think I knew any," Sirius said placidly, returning to the scrubbing of his canines.

"Right," Remus said, nodding his head as though he understood, secretly dumbfounded and more than a little alarmed. "That's, err… I'll be off then, shall I?"

"Wait!" Sirius said, spitting out the toothpaste into the sink hurriedly, leaving a trail of minty drool all down his chin. "I'm coming with you! Where are we going?"

"I _was_ going to breakfast," Remus said, eyeing Sirius and looking mildly alarmed. "But now I fear I shan't be presentable company at all, if you're coming along."

"I am _quite_ presentable," Sirius huffed, puffing his chest out and trying to smooth his rumpled boxer shorts.

"You are half-clad," Remus pointed out, folding his arms with an air of amusement. "You haven't shaved, and you've a bit of toothpaste. Right there," he said when Sirius batted at his face frantically, and poked him in the chin, grinning.

"I was wrong about Mafalda," Sirius grumbled, snatching Remus' towel from his hands and rubbing his face in it, "_you_ are the wench."

"Yes yes," Remus said, patting Sirius' shoulder. "My, but you're grumpy in the morning. You should have just stayed in bed."

"Nah," Sirius said, ducking into the dormitory to pull on a shirt and shoes, slinging his tie around his neck. He hopped out of the dormitory, pulling his pants up and zipping them. "You were up, anyway."

Remus rolled his eyes when it became apparent that yes, Sirius really _did_ think it was all right to leave the dormitories dressed as he was, and beckoned the other boy over, finger-combing his hair into a state of somewhat-normalcy and retying his tie neatly, with both ends perfectly matched. Sirius made a face, and tugged the tie loose, much to Remus' dismay.

"Pads, leave it," Remus pleaded. "Just this once?"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Sirius said, an air of superiority surrounding his wicked grin. "You'd have your nice, neat order, and I'd look like a berk. A bookish berk, at that. A _swot_. And we couldn't have that, you know how highly James thinks of swots." At this, Sirius' grin became even wickeder, and Remus began to fear for the lives of his fellow students.

"All right, all right," Remus said, holding up his hands in surrender. "Leave the tie."

"I plan to."

Remus sighed. "Breakfast, then?"

Sirius nodded seriously. "Breakfast."

XXXXX

Lily did _not_ like mornings. However, mornings were (unfortunately) a necessary part of the day, and Lily was not one to be defeated by something as silly as a morning, however much she might want to allow herself to be. With a heaving sigh that sounded more like a moan than anything else, she kicked the covers off her legs, blearily sitting up.

"'S only six, Lily," Alice groaned, hiding her face under her pillow. "Classes don't start for two and a half hours."

"I know," Lily yawned, standing up. "But if I don't start waking up early now, I'll never be able to." She stretched, and stumbled over to her dresser, pulling out a clean blouse and skirt of the middle drawer, fresh knickers and bra from the top drawer, and a pair of thick black woolen tights from the bottom. She folded them as neatly as possible, tucking them into her school bag along with her books, and slipped her bare feet into her shoes.

Clutching her bag, she left Gryffindor tower, making her way to the nearest Prefects' bathroom. Speaking the password ("Electric Eels"), Lily stepped into the chamber and shut the door behind her, giving it strict instructions not to let anyone in. Taking her clothes out of her bag and folding them neatly on the towel shelf, she turned the taps on, filling the tub with steaming water and mounds of fluffy bubbles. After a quick chat with the mermaid on the wall, Lily slid into the bath, sighing deeply. Bubble baths like this were one of Lily's secret vices, and she saved them for special occasions, not wanting to spoil herself. And what better occasion to spoil oneself than the beginning of a new term, a term for which she'd been elected Head Girl? There were, in fact, _very_ few better occasions, Lily decided.

She allowed herself to soak for half an hour before climbing out of the tub and toweling herself dry and dressing in her uniform, pinning her Head Girl badge on perfectly straight and tying the red and gold tie with such precision that even Remus Lupin, tie perfectionist extraordinaire, would be sick with jealousy. She performed a quick drying charm on her hair and straightened her blouse once more before shouldering her bag and opening the door, running directly into one James Potter.

"Hello," he said, looking surprised. His hair was in an even more awful state than it usually was, ruffled and sticking up all over the place, and he looked as though he was still half-asleep. He was only wearing pajama trousers, and Lily found herself inexplicably blushing.

"Erm, sorry," she said, and there was an awkward moment of trying to step around each other in the same directions, before she finally stood aside and let James pass her. He turned for a moment, looking at her, and looked as though he were about to say something, but she turned and set off down the hall briskly.

"See you at breakfast, then!" James called after her, and by the time she had turned to remind him that they were not friends, they never had been, and she _did not like him_, he had vanished inside the bathroom and the door was swinging shut behind him. She made a frustrated noise, and turned on her heel, making her way down the hall to the staircases that lead to the Great Hall.

XXXXX

"Pass the scones?"

Remus glanced up from the book he'd brought to the table and smiled into the bright green eyes of the girl who had just sat down across from him at the table. He obliged, handing the basket over, and Lily let out a happy sigh, picking a blueberry-flavored one and setting it on her plate. She forked several sausages onto her plate, and began cutting them into slices, neatly and methodically. Once they were perfectly sized, she picked the scone off her plate, taking a bite and closing her eyes, making little sighs of contentment.

"There is _nothing_ better than blueberry scones," she said, taking another bite. "I can't imagine anything better in the entire universe."

"They're quite good, I suppose," Remus said, polishing off his last sausage. "Though I much prefer sausages, I think."

"Scones are heaven on Earth," Lily said firmly, setting hers down on her plate. She glanced across the table towards the boys, and raised her eyebrows. "I think Black is asleep in his porridge," she remarked conversationally, nodding her head towards Sirius, who was facedown in his bowl. "He might drown."

"Oh dear," Remus sighed, grabbing a fistful of hair at the back of Sirius' head and hauled him out of his bowl, saving him from near-certain porridge-induced doom. "Padfoot, wake up," Remus said, jostling the boy. "Pads…"

"Wha?" Sirius said, his eyes snapping open. Porridge dripped down into his eyes, and he shrieked, rubbing at his face. "I'm blind! Moony, Moony I'm blind! Moony, _help_!"

Remus sighed, and took a napkin, grabbing Sirius' chin in his hand. "Stop moving, Pads," he commanded, and Sirius instantly did so, standing stock still. Remus wiped the majority of porridge off his face, and Sirius opened his eyes, beaming at Remus.

"You've saved me!"

Remus smiled despite himself, and, realizing he was still holding Sirius' face, let go, and returned to his toast.

"I suppose you're responsible for him forever, now, since you've _saved_ him." Lily said cheerfully, buttering another scone.

"What?" Remus said, looking alarmed and somewhat pink in the face. "No, that's not right. I didn't _save_ anyone, in fact I—"

"My _hero_!" Sirius shrieked in a falsetto, draping himself across his friend and dragging his sleeve through the jam on Remus' plate. Lily giggled and Remus sighed, looking utterly defeated.

"I hate you," he informed Sirius, disentangling the other boy's arms from his neck and looking forlornly at his plate. "You've put your elbow in my breakfast, Padfoot. My poor toast will never be the same."

"Bugger the toast," Sirius said. "You mean to tell me your toast means more to you than my undying love and gratitude?"

"At the moment? Yes, actually. I'm starved." Remus picked up the one piece that had managed to avoid being mangled by the tornado that was Sirius Black, and put it to his lips, opening wide for a nice, satisfying crunch. The crunch, however, was not to be. Sirius grabbed the toast and hurled it down the table, glaring at Remus.

"_Bugger the toast_!" Sirius shouted, standing up and storming out of the Great Hall.

Remus and Lily gaped, watching him go. Remus was still poised as if to partake of his toast, with one hand lifted to his mouth and his jaws open and ready to bite down.

"What on _Earth_?" Lily looked as confused as Remus felt, but somehow that was little comfort to him.

"I haven't the faintest," Remus said weakly, closing his mouth and last and dropping his arm. "He's always a bit mad in the mornings."

"What's going on?" James climbed over the bench, settling himself at the table next to Lily (who looked pointedly annoyed and scooted over several inches) and reached over her plate for the scones, taking the last blueberry scone. "Pads nearly knocked me over on his way out of the hall, and he was muttering about toast. It's a bit early in the morning for drugs, isn't it?"

"He's, ah—" Remus said, searching for words. "He's a bit moody, I'd say."

"Odd." James raised his eyebrows, shoving half the scone into his mouth and swallowing, causing Lily to give a little whimper of sympathy for the pastry. "He was acting a bit off yesterday as well, though, wasn't he?"

Remus nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose he's upset that we're back at school. I expect he misses the freedom of _Casa de Padfoot_."

Lily snorted. "Please, tell me he doesn't actually call it that."

"It's much worse when he actually says it," James said, demolishing several links of sausage at once. "He uses this _dreadful_ French accent, and it doesn't matter how many times Moony tries to tell him _casa_ is not a French word, he continues."

"Eurgh," Lily said, making a face that Remus suspected had less to do with _Casa de Padfoot_ than with the alarming rate at which James was shoveling food into his mouth. She edged down the bench a little further, as if trying to gauge just how far away she could scoot before James noticed.

"Morning, mates," Pete forced through a yawn, sliding into the now-vacant seat next to Remus. "What's gotten Padfoot's knickers in a twist? I was counting on a good 'nother hour of sleep before breakfast, but he stormed into the dormitory like a mad hippogriff stampede and was flinging things to and fro all over the dormitory."

"Not quite sure," James said, "but as far as we can tell, it's to do with toast and _Casa de Padfoot_."

"I miss the _casa_," Peter said wistfully, staring into his porridge. "I even miss the roaches."

"Ah," said James, "but you can't leave out your little rat friends." He gave Peter and Remus a knowing look, which Lily pointedly ignored as another one of their ridiculous inside jokes, and Peter giggled.

Lily rolled her eyes and stood up, sliding off the bench and shouldering her bag. "Right, I'm off. Potter, don't forget, we've got rounds this evening at nine."

"Oh, right, yes!" James said, looking nervous. "Of course I haven't—I mean, _won't_ forget. Erm, shall we meet near the statue of Winifred the Wailing?"

"Nine o'clock," Lily confirmed. "If you're late, I will hex you until you turn inside out. Understood?"

"Understood," James gulped, tugging at his (badly-knotted) tie.

"Excellent. Bye Pete, bye Remus." She waved jovially, and walked briskly out of the Great Hall, bookbag swinging behind her.

"I am going to die," James said, following Lily out of the hall with his eyes. "She is going to kill me."

"Don't worry," Peter said, reaching across the table to pat James on the shoulder. "I'm sure it'll be a lovely funeral."


End file.
